


Kolnar Meets His Match

by Ariquel



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Klingon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariquel/pseuds/Ariquel
Summary: In response to a recent challenge:  Write a scene with Tom and B'Elanna enjoying a non-date activity together in 1000 words or less.  I took the liberty of making it much more about Miral than either of her parents, but hey, I tried.
Relationships: Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Comments: 15
Kudos: 23





	Kolnar Meets His Match

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine this as an epilogue to a much longer fic. In that story, Tom programs DaHar Master Kolnar to learn about Klingon culture and seek guidance as he tries to court his half-Klingon mate. Kolnar gets a front row seat to Tom and B’Elanna’s tumultuous path to marriage, slowly becoming a confidant to both of them. In this scene, it’s been years since Voyager got home, and almost as long since they’ve run the program. They dust it off to introduce him to Miral. 
> 
> **SuvwI’ mach** \- _little warrior_
> 
>  **maj!** \- _good!_ (expressing satisfaction)
> 
>  **moQbara’** \- A Klingon martial art that incorporates edged weapons

Five-year-old Miral stared up at the arched ceiling of the austere but spacious cavern in front of her, wondering if all of her dad’s private holodeck programs were set in some sort of cave. This seemed like a good one, though – sunny, warm, and with plenty of room to gut anyone dumb enough to challenge a daughter of the empire who was holding a bat’leth. Just as she started to lose herself in visions of glorious battle, though, a loud and guttural voice interrupted her thoughts. 

“Thomas, son of Owen!” boomed the large, elaborately dressed Klingon as he emerged from the cave’s entrance. The grizzled warrior looked over at her dad, and infused his terse greeting with the warmth one offers a frequent and welcome guest. “And B’Elanna, daughter of Miral,” he added, casting a slightly more surprised but no less friendly look at her mom.

“Hello, Master Kolnar. It’s been a while.” B’Elanna smiled at the sight of her daughter standing tall in her newly replicated Klingon Defense Force uniform. “Things have changed in the House of Paris since we last saw you.” 

“They certainly have. And who is this?” 

“I am Miral, daughter of B’Elanna.” Miral inserted, determined to answer for herself. Craning her neck to look right at the enormous hologram, she carefully tucked her tiny bat’leth under her arm so she could gesture with her hands. “My Dad says you taught him how to be Klingon. Is that true?”

Kolnar and Tom looked at each other, enjoying the reminder of their shared history, before the DaHar Master peered down at the assertive young girl who demanded his full attention. “Well,” he paused, “your father and I have learned much about what it means to be Klingon together. Is that why you’ve come here to meet me today?”

Miral shook her head so decisively that a few of her too-short-to-braid curls escaped the headband that had been trying valiantly to contain them. “Oh no. I don’t need that kind of lessons. I’m one-quarter Klingon.” She smiled and got straight to the point. “I’m here for advanced **moQbara’** training. My dad says I can now that I’ve demonstrated my skill with a bat’leth in combat.” 

“My Mom is here to make sure Dad and I don’t get carried away.” Looking over her shoulder, Miral cast a slightly reproachful, if resigned, look at her mother. “We’re not allowed to come home bleeding like stuck targs anymore. Not even if we promise to clean up the mess ourselves.” 

“I see,” the Master said with a twinkle in his eye and just enough solemnity to suit the occasion, “tell me, what _does_ it mean to be Klingon?” 

Miral brightened – that was an easy one. “Klingons are strong and brave. We act with conviction and defend those who are weaker than us.”

“And is a Klingon proud?”

Miral paused, and looked briefly at the russet and orange flowers dotting the cave entrance in front of her. “Yes of course,” she replied, “but never arrogant.”

Now the old Klingon looked intrigued. “And what is the difference between pride and arrogance, **SuvwI’ mach**?”

Miral was running out of patience, as she often did when adults kept harping on something after she was ready to move on. But, her dad had insisted that she must always speak to Master Kolnar with respect, even when she didn’t agree with him, so she clamped down firmly on the impulse to roll her eyes. 

“I can answer that if you want me to. But it will take a while. And I’m also human, which means I get pizza when we’re done with bat’leth practice,” she said, hoping he’d get the hint. 

" **maj!** " Kolnar shouted, surprised enough to let out a bark of laughter. “And I take it that you don’t wish to encounter any unnecessary delays on the path to your reward?”

“Exactly.” Miral nodded, pleased that he understood. 

“Very good.” Kolnar’s tone rang with approval. Taking up his weapon, the Master swept his gaze over all three students to indicate they should do the same, and turned to begin their first lesson as a family unit. “The first step is to find balance. For yourself _and_ the blade. Close your eyes, breathe deeply, and feel the weapon in your hands.”


End file.
